Jensine's Nine Divines
by manmythic
Summary: Beneath a skirt, the legendary Nine Divines have been revealed, but they have been adorned with terrible secrets and arcane inscriptions. Literally, in the end, who will uncover its power? Rated M for Strong/Sexual Language. Released in short chapters.
1. Meet the Guards

_**MEET THE GUARDS**_

Ah, a fresh morning in Cyrodiil. Something that had been long hoped for during the Oblivion Crisis, but now that the Crisis was over; people could continue on their everyday routes, without the shock of seeing a mercilessly slaughtered Mythic Dawn agent (who used to have been just a normal citizen and not a ritualistic heretic) lying in a pool of his or her own blood on the ground. The bars were becoming more than just places for a couple of people to drown their sorrows about Oblivion over a bottle of delicious yet highly addictive Cyrodiilic Brandy, they were fully operational and stuffed with drinking-age-legal adults. Rindir and his staves were becoming very popular, due to the fact that people still worried that yet another crisis would spring up to replace the wretched Daedric raids. Most importantly to this tale, however, the guard barracks were becoming emptier due to the fact that security was only really needed to block the minor and less numerous threats… such as Necromancers, Dark Brotherhood members, Bandits, Marauders, Aggravated Wildlife, Corrupt Guards, Pirates, Vampires, Glarathir, Argonian Tribesmen, Pickpocketers, the Blackwood Company, Goblins, Ogres, Graverobbers, Mudcrabs, Adoring Fanboys, Glitches-

But of course, there is _always_ someone in Cyrodiil with a problem. But this problem may become even bigger than the Oblivion Crisis. In fact, it may affect all of Tamriel or more… a crisis so huge, it would be unbearable…

_By the Nine Divines… read on._

Guardsman Bob was standing in a fashion almost as plain as his name was, his limbs were straight and very stiff and his sword was in his armoured hands, though it dangled uselessly like some kind of extra limb. He gave citizens a quick smile, and though he received a smile in reply, he knew that being a guardsman was almost as low as being a beggar. The guards had put some hefty and highly obnoxious restraints on the people during the crisis to keep them safe, though they had to admit that it was just an abuse of their powers. They enjoyed this. And people knew, but they no doubt did not reject them. They'd sooner have their head cut off, (which, sadly, is what would happen to those who misbehaved), seeing as it was not legal to carry an even defensive weapon.

Guardsman Larry was standing next to him, keeping his usual air of prestige and sporting the shiniest (not to mention the most expensive) armour with the least number of dents and burn marks. It was certainly not ironic that this was due to his laziness. Larry usually just countered this by saying "the opponent wouldn't be able to get a blow through my shield, anyways!" and laughed a hearty Imperial laugh. Unlike the others, he was a "temple guard" of the White-Gold Tower, so perhaps this was the true reason to his armour's durability and overall appearance. Anyhow, he usually "fought without a thought", him being the most dim-witted of the guards.

And Guardsman John… he was on patrol at the time. He was just your basic guard… a bit thick, physically adept and power hungry.

Larry and Bob stood and talked on the street, standing in front of the western entrance which led, across a fairly long bridge, to Weye and Wawnet Inn. Oh, and a stable lay to the right of the outside gate, though often not very thick with horses, due to the… err- "odd dieting habits" of a certain Orc.

Anyhow, the guards began to talk of their shifts (it was evening, and their work was done, meaning Larry wouldn't have to guard the palace any longer) and if anything interesting had happened when it was their turn to patrol the city.

"Well-"began Larry, in an overly gallant tone, "During my shift, I got myself a couple of drunken Nords. Upon asking them to move along or to wait until sober before drinking again, they pulled out their weapons and ambushed me! I was startled, but all of them are in pieces now, lying in the middle of the street in the Imperial City, which is also stained with blood and guts by now, and people are stepping on their corpses... and I could have sworn I saw a few Cliff Racers ripping the raw flesh from the corpses, as well as the fact that there's the possibility the bodies may be resurrected by a Necromancer-"

Bob was about to say the stereotypical Imperial Line: "That's a bit excessive, don't you think?", however, he began to think about an obvious answer- but it just wouldn't come to him! Thinking for about seven minutes (five minutes of thinking and two minutes of daydreaming); he eventually spawned a single question.

"And what are you going to do with those bodies, knucklehead? You can't just leave them in the middle of the street! (No shit.)"

Larry chuckled. "I'll make sure that the remains make it to the home of the Nords... uhh...Valenwood… or wherever they come from. I'll put them in a package, just so that it's a surprise to them. I guess I'll go ship them right now. I'll even put a little 'apology' note in the package, y'know… Nords can be touchy when their drinking buddies are _dead_! Ha!"

"You stupid idiot," blustered Bob while giving Larry a sharp punch in the shoulder, "Nords come from Hammerfell, not Valenwood!"

"Oh."

Actually, Bob expected Larry to understand that he was joking around… Nords come from Skyrim, obviously. But eventually, they both found themselves laughing their heads off like drunken men, irrelevant to the fact that some unlucky Redguard would soon be opening a package from Cyrodiil with a few Nords inside- massacred and dripping with blood.

But suddenly- a loud panting. They turned to see John running towards them, sweating heavily and red-faced. His helmet was off, revealing his Imperial face (same race as Larry and Bob as well), and he looked like he had met a Daedric lord. But due to his heavy silence, it seemed that he was red out of some sort of… embarrassment. He was acting mighty peculiar-

"Guys," he finally half stuttered, half screamed, "_This is terrible_."

"Why, what's wrong?" Larry walked forward to give his friend a support to lean on… in case he fainted… which looked quite likely just about now.

"Well," he said, lowering his voice down, "Something worse than the Oblivion Crisis was. Something nearly unfathomable. _Something huge! Something that will threaten all of Tamriel!_"

They moved their heads forward in a guard "huddle". And John said something that made their mouths drop low.

"Well, Jensine, at "Jensine's Good-As-New Merchandise", leaned over today when I was on my shift… and… well, you know… she leaned forward and her skirt…" he paused and tears came to his eyes, the strain making the words only come out in a squeal:

**"I saw her Nine Divines."**

And Larry and Bob, now realizing their doom, let out a bloodcurdling scream of horror:

**"BY THE NINE DIVINES!"**


	2. A Divine Tattoo

_**A DIVINE TATTOO**_

"It was an accident, really! I mean, I wouldn't have… err- noticed, if she hadn't have leant down to check her stock!"

The three troubled guards were sitting in the guard barracks shortly after the perverted incident. No one else was even in the guard buildings, seeing as they were all on duty- though the three of them had abandoned their posts. This was risking their jobs, but this was a dilemma which couldn't be ignored. John was in tears, shaking up a storm and ripping little strands of hair out of his head. Luckily for the threesome, no other guards knew of their situation, reducing their chances of getting in trouble. By now, I hope you can tell that there really is no problem- John is just a pervert and he looked at Jensine's rear. But of course, every story must have a problem, and it will eventually follow suit… I kid you not. Anyways, Bob looked sternly at John, but Larry seemed to think that they weren't in "trouble"- and that John had scored… bigtime.

"None of this would of happened," grumbled Bob, "If you hadn't have been looking at her stock in the first place!"

Larry couldn't help but snigger at the idea of John checking her out, but the other two weren't paying attention. John began sobbing into his knees again.

"Look," began Bob, "I need you to explain everything, in precise detail. If you could do that for me, it'd be great. Then, there's a chance that this… doom… brought on by the arcane Nine Divines… is fake."

Bob looked hopeful that it would end up being so, so he thought intently.

"Well, it was big-smooth, she was carrying a lot of junk-in-the-"

Bob slapped his hand to his face, and Larry spat everywhere as he bellowed laughing. "No, not her…umm… Nine Divines. The situation. We already know the crisis took place at her store, but did anyone else see? What was the time?"

Unfortunately for Bob, he was the smartest of the three, and he had, at least, the basic skills of perception. When I say that only one in five-hundred thousand guards know how to tell time and write I'm not lying. But John did know how to read… sort of. He had one thing to say:

"There was- a tattoo. Surrounded in flames, and the text was rippled like the heat from a fire. The text didn't look to be Imperial, the letters were slightly jagged and messy. There's a chance it may have been… well, Ayleid. You know- the Wild Elves. But what would Jensine have to do with a few treehugging elves? I mean-"

Bob interrupted him, trying not to be rude, but he needed to make sure that what he thought he saw was correct: "Perhaps the text was slightly altered on the tattoo- possibly by the wrinkles on her fat ass?"

John nodded his head. "That's possible. It was hairy…"

Larry was in fully throated laughed, and picking up a nearby bottle of Tamika Vintage 399, he drank a third of it in one huge gulp. Some came out through his nose, pouring onto the carpet and staining it.

However, began John, his words solemn and sincere, Let me attempt to write out what I saw from a mental image. Let's see…

John took a few minutes to write out a few letters on a scroll with his trusty quill (all guards had one in case they had to write a ticket for illegally parked horses). Eventually, he was done, and he showed it to the other two…

"Bi… gh… umm… butt… otn… ordm… gee, you guys, I forget… om…ma. Yes, I believe that's what was written on her Nine Divines.

And despite the fact that it seemed to be nothing but random gibberish, no one laughed. This became serious now… it sounded like John was right. Ayleids often wrote like this, and when the word Ayleid was mentioned, it often meant treasure… not to mention hundreds of undead and, worse, difficult text which very few guards could read. They would have to decide exactly how urgent the problem was… because if she was associating with Ayleids, she may be a gravedigger, or possibly a necromancer.

Indeed, they would have to study Jensine's actions intently… doing so may lead to clues and answers to the many puzzles being thrown at them. Of course, they couldn't let John do it, for there was the danger he may be more of a pervert, and possibly discover more secrets that shouldn't have been uncovered. But otherwise, all three of them were in on the project. They needed to find out what her odd tattoo meant… before something terrible happened.

Meanwhile, Jensine was in her store… yet again checking out her stock. Everything appeared to be in order, right in the same place where she had left them. She smiled, when fate behold, she felt the sudden urge to have herself a scratch. Reaching back, she eased her need.

-little did she know that she was being watched. But not by John, Bob or Larry- by another guard. This guard bore the name of Dave, and he obviously enjoyed watching her Nine Divines. But there and then, he realized that there was text upon her rear… odd text, nothing like he had ever seen before. He was the dimmest of all of the guards- making Larry barely a match for stupidity, and though he was often insulted for his "false discoveries", he knew reporting something as interesting as this to the guard watch would be worth the result.

She raised a sword… it was beautifully crafted and looked like it would be difficult to master. Jensine placed the sword in what appeared to be a display case and closed the glass lid, locking it with what Dave realized was a very hard lock. Unfortunately for Dave, he had chose alchemy over security upon choosing his major skills. He thought it would be a good hobby, but it turning out to be dumb, and seeing as he did not know the correct cheat codes to change it, he had to stay with it. It just sat there in his skill list, not rising higher than level five…

But Dave noticed something mighty peculiar. The sword was labeled, on the case, to be an Akaviri Warblade. Maybe there was some relation between the tattoo and the long gone Akaviris. Besides, why in the hell would she have a rare and amazing Akaviri Warblade in her simple (not to mention cheap) stock?

He would have to look into this. If she endangered the Imperial City or maybe even Tamriel in all of her beauty, Dave would be responsible for not warning anyone. So many could die… so many…

And then, Dave fell to the ground, unconscious. The last he heard was a huge clunk, and the last he saw were two guards standing over him, each with clubs.

"Sorry, buddy, but we had to do it...


	3. Ayleid Asshugger

_**AYLEID ASSHUGGER**_

Waking up with a start, Umbacano began panting with fear. His forehead was covered with a pungent sheen, which was dripping over into his eyes. The burn was intense… as the sweat rolled down between his lids, he let out a regular High-Elven scream and leapt to the nearest sink. As he jumped out of his covers, several books slipped down to the floor from atop his sheets: he had been reading all during the night. However, he was in such a hurry to get to the washroom, he didn't bother to pick any of them up; not "Collector's Dream" or "Ayleid Artifacts", let alone "How to be a Manipulative Asshole". Washing his darkened eyes out, he panted over the sink, lathering water all over his face. The sheen was gone, letting only his aged face shine through."When I'm an Ayleid King…" snarled Umbacano, making menacing hand shapes and pretending to swat at the mirror like a tyrant, "I'm going to ban sweat from everyone's foreheads! That's right."Umbacano sniffed high and mightily, sucking air into his chest until he choked. Opening the bathroom window, he stared down at the people of the disgusting Imperial City. It was certainly not a magnificent place: unlike High Rock, there was no gold statuettes, no golden fountains bubbling with only the finest water. In reality, all that was in the middle of the circular neighborhood he lived in was a truly hideous statue of "Akatosh". Akatosh! What a silly name… however, the poor and middle class people came to pray there, when not at the White-Gold Tower. Umbacano was, really, the only "High Class" in all of the Imperial City. At least in his eyes.

He hated the beggars. They had no sense of style, no enthusiasm… they just walked around. He hated the guards, too. They stood around; waiting for a criminal to come by… they barely did their job. He hated the merchants as well… they always stood around trying to sell things, hoping that in the end they'd get the best deal.

However, one especial merchant had the best deal in the end. He had noticed her since last week: she usually came around the neighborhood and knelt down to pray at the statue. No, it wasn't attraction… the Nord Woman really wasn't so sexy, or beautiful. It was the tattoo which rested dominantly upon her hinny which led Umbacano to become interested. In case you haven't found out, Umbacano was extremely interested in the Ayleid arts, its secrets, and even had an evil plan up his sleeve or too to achieve supremacy. This odd text that Jensine had, stenciled on her behind, was undoubtedly Ayleid writing. It didn't take a genius to figure this out- I mean, it was so… ancient!

Umbacano smirked with raw determination, looking left and right in case anyone was listening. "By the Ayleid Gods, I'll have that ass. I'll have that ass if it takes me an eternity. Why, I'll have that ass if I die in the process! I'll…"

"- I'd like to take that ass too, sir." And the High Elf paused, whirling around to stare at his favourite servant, Jollring. Unlike Umbacano, his reason for staring at the rear end of Jensine was out of pervertedness. Carrying a silver platter, adorned with fine various biscuits, treats and bonbons available in all of Tamriel, he had been standing there the whole time, watching him. Sure he wanted Jensine… both of them were older Nords who appreciated the "finer" things in life. Presumably, he didn't notice or care about the text on her behind. Umbacano also presumed that he thought it was an "unnecessary addition" to an already noticeable behind.

"Shush, Jollring. Don't you think that you should take your work downstairs? So I may stare out my window in private? Oh, and could you get me a glass of Vintage, along with a few sweet rolls?"

Jollring chuckled immediately after this sentence. "Yessir, unless you'd like a pair of buns better." And he walked downstairs. Umbacano rolled his eyes, let out a hefty snobbish sigh, and moved out from the bathroom to his study.

A pity, it was, that Umbacano was so very generous to his servants… otherwise, he'd beat Jollring to death. No, he'd just have to settle with making his work harder, more demanding and miserable for the rest of the day. He'd spill food and drink and force him to clean it, he'd break pictures he had on the wall in his servant's quarters, and he'd shatter the China- which was particularily difficult to clean when not supplied with a pair of gloves. Getting back to the point: Jensine's stern could reveal the Ayleid secrets he was looking for. It was obvious that it would be difficult to get a good look.

And it was obvious that he'd need someone with the skill to see the writing quickly enough.

Or, he'd learn it himself.

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Jollring was back, holding the same silver platter- but this time, with the desired order of Vintage and sweet rolls. Humming to himself, he had forgotten the entire issue from before due to his age, and was now climbing up the later to Umbacano's private study. Opening the door, he didn't see his master at first. However, a sound- like the whistle of the wind… so silent, so smooth… so evil. A hunter after innocent prey."Don't move. Don't even breathe."Jollring turned around to the sound anyway, in case they had an intruder. However, to his extreme surprise, it was his master… Umbacano was standing, grasping an Elven bow firmly in his hands, with the finest arrow of Ebony entwined with the stressed bowstring. Releasing the arrow, it struck firmly into one of the sweet rolls, making the Ayleid obsessed man chuckle with pride.

"Sir, w-what is the meaning of this? Why are you armed with a bow? And why'd you take the bow out of its glass case, anyway? It took me a while to sit it there, just right…"

Umbacano grinned. "For the last question, I did that to piss you off. But for the first two, it's part of a mission…"

He cleared his throat, ignoring Jollring's slightly hurt feelings.

"I need to have level 50 marksman, Jollring," stated Umbacano, so I can zoom in on her Nine Divines."

Jollring stared at him intensely. He stared back.

"Now, give me my sweet rolls."


	4. Letter of Suicide

**_LETTER OF SUICIDE_**

A flake of snow fell on Dave's nose, making him shudder and wriggle. Where was he? How did he get here? And why was there a huge lump on the side of his head? These would be difficult questions to answer, seeing as he was incapable of solving common sense. Maybe, somewhere around where he was, someone could help him. But, unfortunately for him, he would have to attempt to sit up to look around. For Dave, this was often an extremely stressful task which took immense concentration. However, were he to continue lying on the ground, he would likely freeze to death. Dave sat up, groaning as his potbelly shifted and his armour clanked together. The areas in which the armour plates had been smelted together were beginning to bust. Groaning in pain as the steel armour dug into his stomach, a single tear slumped down his chubby right cheek and froze. It was very dramatic, and Dave was one to make a big deal of it. He sobbed at almost everything- after he killed something, after he cast a spell he felt guilty for using up some of his magika (for some apparent reason, Dave was one of the rare guards who could use magic), and after jumping, he sobbed about being fatigued. However, getting back to the task at ass, his behind was, for once, far number than his mind. He could no longer feel the snow's punishment; his underpaid hinny had grown used to it. If only Dave could problem solve that the reason for his behind being numb was because of the fact that he had been lying in the snow for a very long time, he wouldn't have believed that it was-

"-my butt! I can't feel my butt, it's like the connection's cut off! Help, someone, please help me! I can't feel my…"

Dave realized that there was no one else around to complain to. It looked like, for once in his life he was alone (he usually needed consent from his fellow guards for doing practically anything). Concerning where Dave was, in reality, he was in the outskirts of Bruma. Deer were skittishly leaping around, hiding from the rare prey which may be hiding up in the mountains, such as ogres or hunters. The trees were adorned with snow, and it further up the forest, there were no trees- it was a barren wasteland. There were random caves as well, but usually, they were occupied in some way or another. Concerning what he thought, however, he believed that he was in Anvil, seeing as 'it always snowed there'. Note that Dave had never left the Imperial City, please, don't ask me why he said this.

It was an alien world to Dave. There were no insects flying around to catch in his mouth, and no little forest animals to talk to. Also, there was no cheese around to eat. Dave enjoyed cheese, especially of the smellier assortment such as Blue Cheese. On top of tasting amazing, when around bad smelling cheese, it made him seem to smell better. The lack of cheese in this "new world" was very daunting to him. He wasn't sure how long he would survive in the cold without some sort of food, nonetheless.

However, distantly, there was a fire. The scent of smoke- and venison- rose in the air. There was a trail of footsteps as well, leading to what looked like a distant camp on the hill. Smoke and flame was visible, and though he had no clue what it was, he felt that he should investigate. After all, it smelt like food… and his behind could use some heat just about now.

--------------------------------------------------

"Repeat what you did today to the Emperor. Now."

Larry and Bob were gulping madly, not sure how to answer to the guard captain's demands. They would rather go back in time to the Oblivion Crisis than to have to answer such a difficult question to the emperor. They were standing in the slightly destroyed White-Gold Tower, standing as Martin sat in his desk and the guard captain led them by their ears. Yes, it was them who had hit Dave on the head with bats. Were Dave to discover the danger of the Nine Divines, he would likely take its power for granted- and rule/destroy the world with it. They had to explain to the captain and Martin without giving away its terrible secrets- their investigation could only go as far as the three guards.

"W…we…umm… well, we gave Dave a vacation to Bruma."

The reality was, of course, that they had knocked him out and stuck him into the wilderness of Bruma- one of the more dangerous parts of Cyrodiil. There were ogres, wolves, mountain lions, worshippers, dive rock and glitches. Larry sighed, looking down guiltily, while Bob had stuck out his bottom lip like a two-year old. However, to their surprise, Martin did not seem to understand what was wrong with sending a guard hundreds of miles from his post.

Martin put on a very simple grin, smiling for all to see. "Oh, how wonderful. These two guards were very considerate of their friend, were they not, Hemlock? (the name of the guard captain)"Due to the unnaturally sweet voice of the emperor, Hemlock believed that he was only fooling around, and that he was pretending to joke about this obscene action. Preparing to laugh at the joke of Martin and get a promotion, he cleared his throat and blinked a few times. Standing up straight with his hands behind his back, he twiddled his toes and made sure he had no food in his teeth. He made sure that his armour was at its shiniest, so that Martin would notice. He tousled his hair playfully, making it appear just right, perfect and-

"… in fact, I believe that the both of them deserve a promotion. Off with your armour, men, you don't deserve to be in such shabby guard garb. Hemlock, please, show them to the armoury and give them a nicer pair of Armour- promote Bob to Palace Guard and Larry to Imperial Dragon Knight. Oh Hemlock, could you possibly send Dave a postcard on my behalf, if it wouldn't be too hard? Also, maybe you could have the cook prepare a nice meal for these two guards, if it wouldn't be too hard? Then again- maybe you could give up your position, if it wouldn't be too hard? After all, perhaps Larry is better suited for the job."

Despite the fact that Hemlock was captain, he could be promoted to captain of a higher guard class, such as Palace or Imperial Dragon captain. And also despite the fact that he was usually a good natured man, he was infuriated to such an extent that his nostrils snorted with such fierceness that the hairs of his moustache were pressed flat against his lips. Even if he would rather slaughter the emperor, he nodded shakily and said "Yes, sir. I'll get right on that, sir. Don't worry sir, I'll do your (his voice trailed off from here) unnecessary bidding, you stupid dumbfuck."

Martin smiled. "Right! Off, then."

'Off, then.' '_Off, then_?!' '_OFF THEN!_' Were him and Martin alone in the same room, he would be dead by now. Sometimes he wanted to quit his job and have a less frustrating occupation, such as selling staves or weapons, or maybe even potions. Thinking about his own job was full of resent, usually swearing to himself as you heard before. However, he'd also like to see Larry and Bob dead. They didn't even do their jobs- they were only kept as guards for comic belief, of course. Everyone laughed at them (not John, seeing as before the viewing of the Nine Divines he was normal) and tried to make their lives as miserable as they got. This promotion was unheard of in all of Cyrodiil… no wait- Tamriel's history. However, it has happened… and it was unavoidable.

Hemlock decided that he would have to take drastic action in order to regain justice- murder. Yes, Hemlock would get the two guards their food; however, he would poison it. That way, maybe he could get a promotion, were he to have reported the death…

Grabbing a bottle of poison (from any particular cabinet), he poured it into a cup and showed it to the chef. Though he knew something was fishy, he dared not argue with a guard captain. Putting in this "secret ingredient", he began to prepare the dishes for these two guards as they tried on the armour.

It happened at that very moment. Hemlock was leading the guards back from the armoury when he noticed Martin sitting in his chair, at his desk. He was reading letters sent in from all of Tamriel- their opinions on him being the emperor. Mostly they were mixed. The Dark Elves seemed to hate Tamriel the most for reasons well known, but Hammerfell and the Nords liked Martin due to "Little Hammerfell"- Skyrim was made to honour Nord architecture and their customs. However, one letter on the floor appeared to be written in a kind of writing not seen ever before. Incorrect spelling, short versions of words and the like ran down the page. It was from the massive pile on Martin's desk, yet it had drifted off and landed in the doorway.

"Sir, I believe you dropp-"

Out of the corner of Hemlock's eye, the letter caught his attention. He turned to look at it fully, and, after reading it, he turned so pale it looked as if he were undead. Looking down at the letter and back up at Martin with huge, boggly eyes, his mouth hung low and he appeared scared beyond his wits."What's the matter, Hemlock? You look white as a-"Hemlock had already sprinted for the kitchen. Grabbing the dishes which the hard-working Wood Elf chef had just finished, he stuffed them in his mouth- the sickening taste of poison blighting his internal organs. Quivering in fear, he simply stood there, waiting for the effects of the poison to kick in. This time, however, the chef lost it. He couldn't stand having someone just barge into his kitchen- let alone ruin a perfect meal.

"Why did you just do that?! Hey, I mean, what did I ever do to you?"

Hemlock looked up, tossing his head from side to side to amass the pain of the poison.

"Don't ask. Seriously."

And he dropped dead, blood dripping from his mouth due to the internal wounds. The Wood Elf's eyes grew wide, as he dropped everything and pulled a panic alert- running around into walls away from the "murderer" and screaming "murder!"

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Meanwhile, Martin was at his desk, and he finally noticed the letter on the ground in the doorway. Wondering why it wasn't in the pile like the other letters, he opened and read it to himself at his desk.

"Dear Martin,

wut r u thinkin man? Ur a good emperor an all but din't you die during the Oblivion crisis? I mean wtf. U shuld be dead and that high elf chancellor dude shuld be in Ur place. I MEAN U DIED AFTER U KILLED DAGON! Srry I just thought I should say that

-Lady Rogbut"

Martin thought on the topic for a minute, but eventually raised one finger as if he had came to a revelation. "Oh, yes, I nearly forgot!"

Standing up and retaining the same obnoxious smile as he always did, he grabbed the blade of the nearest guard and thrust it into his own stomach. As he died, he was still smiling- his puffy Breton face hadn't faded away. Pulling the blade out of Martin's stomach, the guard who owned the blade dragged the cheery body of Martin off, as Lord Chancellor Ocato took Martin's place on his desk as if he had always been the emperor.


	5. Hemlock's Grave

With the death of Martin Septim and the new emperor, nothing had changed (seeing as the unfortunately unreliable AI had bonked out again, making everyone clueless as to where they were)  
However, on a very important note, where Dave had been lead to. The fire was indeed a distant camp, and it was occupied- well, by one Nord. Aerin's Camp, as it was so deemed, and yet it was occupied by a Nord named "Tolbern." He was a scruffy old Nord, a master at acrobatics. He seemed to enjoy hunting deer, but he was the only person there withing a huge radius. He was quite the loner, never having seen someone for twenty-five years. He didn't miss his family so much, it was more that he wished he had some spices to go with them when he ate his parents alive for "survival". Whether he was really that low on food or not has yet to be deemed. Also, Tolbern had warned that when drunk, he could do some pretty crazy things- and not to take anything he says seriously, unless he truly deems himself "not drunk". Due to the naturally careless nature and his dizzy gait, the "sober" point was difficult to find. On the brighter side, he had taught Dave about the wilderness and its various creatures. Drinking Shadowbanish Wine and hoping it was not important for any quests, the two of them were soon drunk as they could possibly be. Thousands of miles away, the faint screaming of Nerussa from Wawnet Inn could not be heard.

"So, buddy ol' pal..." Tolbern was grinning, putting a friendly arm around Dave and the other arm holding a bottle of the wine, "Wh- hic... I hate Cyrodiil. This whole place is fucked up. You know that, buddy? Skyrim's way better than this, an- hic oh man, Cyrodiil is for fucking loooooosserzs."

"Umm... hi." Dave giggled madly, frothing saliva until it dripped into his bottle. Swishing it around to mix with the wine, he then chugged along for several minutes.

"Yur suuuuch a loooser-lopsey! Mind if uy ave som?"

"Nah, iss my wine."

"YUH LIL'..." and Tolborn fell to the ground, amazingly drunk and red in the face."

Dave fainted too. His head falling not far from the fire, his eyes closed and he fell into the deepest slumber-

-----------------------------------

Meanwhile, in the Imperial City and on more belivable terms, Larry and Bob were flaunting their new armour to the people of the Imperial City, dancing and doing flips in the air. Winking at any attractive women who strayed to close to these two imbeciles, they had recieved their share of slaps and shin kicks. Larry's Dragon Armour had several enchantments, most of which he had no idea how to use and/or did not understand. Without Dave, the only guard who could use magic,  
there was no use trying anyway. Bob was doing handstands with his new Palace Armour, his helmet falling off several times, his armour slipping up forward towards his head. His sword fell upside-down out of the scabbard, almost chopping off his fingers.  
Laughing like an idiot as he had barely dodged loosing his prized middle finger, he finally flipped back up onto his feet. Unfortunately, his chest plate of course also slid back into position, hitting him in the crotch with such a heavy blow he passed out.  
Larry continued flaunting his armour, uninformed of Bob's new inability for sex, flirting with all girls from Mazoga to the Countess of Chorrol. He even flirted with the Adoring Fan, but after finally realising he wasn't a girl, beheaded him and threw his body into the water surrounding the city. Bob had gotten back up, still smiling despite the now fading pain, and began flirting as well.

However, Joe was busy dreaming...

Envisioning a large field, he was standing in the middle of it. Watermellons, his favourite fruit, dropped from the sky and splattered to the ground. Minotaurs were dancing, spriggins were belly-dancing, wolves were chasing their tails and Mankar Camoran was jumping on top of Ruma, his daughter. She was unconcious at the moment. Ah, it was- what was it? Paradise? Pretty flowers everywhere! Celestial mudcrabs, and sparkly insects buzzing like faeries in the air! Jensine dressed in Dremora armour and talking daemonically, on top of running towards him with a daedric mace, made him wake up with a sweat. Scared out of his wits, he hid beneath the covers of his shabby bed and screamed like a little girl. Instantly alarming Bob and Larry, they stopped their nonsense and went to ask why Joe had screamed- after all, there were no enemies in the area. He could rest. Finally making it to the barracks, Bob and Larry rushed to Joe's bedside and-

"Joe, why the hell'd you scream? What's going on?"

"Guys! You guys! I just had a dream- it seemed so...real... I could practically taste it! Belly-dancing spriggins, dancing minotaurs, celestial mudcrabs- and... Jensine. But Jensine was dressed in- gasp DREMORA ARMOUR! AND A SWORD! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?"

Larry began to pick his nose, Bob stood very still and began to pee.

"J-JENSINE'S A DREMORA!"

Bob and Larry looked surprsied.

"What on Earth is a Dremora?"

They had forgotten the Oblivion Crisis. It was too long ago for the average guard to remember- one month seemed ancient. But everyone else remembered- hidious daedra raiding the city, the ruined and burning buildings, Mehrunes appearing to challenge the future grand champion- it wasn't something that at least Hundolin forgot. And Hundolin never left the Arena, not once, he just sold tickets and slept. However, despite their lack of knowledge, the two were still convinced that the legendary Nine Divines were Ayleid, not Akaviri or Daedric.

Or, at least Bob did.

Larry though something completely different.

"Bob..." he began, "What if the legendary Nine Divines were a mark of the Morag Tong Executioners?"

The others looked at each other, then laughed. The Morag Tong? The only news heard from them was from Morrowind, where their work went legally. However, they would pursue prey beyond Morrowind's border. Perhaps he had a point? Jensine could be one of these assassins, illegally doing her work outside of the border... and the guardsmen would love to capture one of those! Jensine had to be stopped at all costs, no matter what! She could be hunting anyone- every single person in Cyrodiil was now in danger! How could this be, however? The guard posts watching for these assassins just outside of Morrowind were very heavy and numerous, but still, a large number of these assassins could still slip through. They swore to secrecy, and damn, was it easy to slip past a dim-witted guard! There was very little knowledge about the assassins, and in all truth, they were the least of Cyrodiil's problems. However, it seemed as if nothing would change Larry's mind- he was set on the idea of the Morag Tong and Jensine.

"Well," Bob began, "I'm sticking to the idea of her being Ayleid"  
"And I'm sticking to the idea of her being Daedric"  
"And I'm sticking to the idea of her being Akaviri!" (murmured from the lips of a far-away Dave)

Larry had decided as well. "Morag Tong, one hundred and fifty nine ka-billion-trillion-guardza-billion percent!"

The three glared at one another, Dave glaring miles away. It was time- their quest would now be divided on what one another believed about Jensine. On their own, they would try to discover as much information on Jensine as possible. Watching her, researching her, purchasing from her-  
anything to draw her attention. Something to just get a glimpse at that tattoo- and they were positive that other people may be hunting Jensine for information as well. All four would research- Akaviri, Ayleid, Morag Tong and Dremora. Hand-to-hand experience would need to be discovered- it was a crusade to save the world, a quest for both self benefit and that good feeling inside, as well as a hefty raise. Also, they would discover some things about themselves in this mission- who they were, and where they came from. They would recieve cookies, fight mudcrabs, ride giant slaughterfish, dance in caves,  
jump with horses, and hump some of the hottest Mythic Dawn agents available.

They would triumph!

The next day, a funeral was held for Hemlock. It was surprisingly fancy for such a poorly treated guard. The guardsmen brought seperate hankies and the Adoring Fan, so anyone without a hankie could wipe their nose on him. Tears fell in large abundance, ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"A profound guard, he did his job,  
his end came due to Larry and Bob,  
and into his mouth the poison food did he lob,  
upon finding out that Martin, that snob,  
should quite frankly be dead as a doorknob,  
and then he died, that stupid SOB,  
the poison food he ate was corn on the cob,  
he would have died anyway due to the mob,  
but why did Akatosh have to rob,  
him of his life, he was just doing his job,  
despite his urge to chop Larry and Bob,  
n00b missing an "0" is n0b,  
And n00b was what Hemlock, the brave knight was.

Oh dear old Hemlock, your name is in brass,  
Unlike all the other guards, you didn't harass,  
A valiant man, who wouldn't accept any sass, On the other hand, Hemlock was quite an ass, And between you and me, he hadn't slept with a lass,  
Why did Hemlock's life have to pass?  
It went by so quickly, whized by in a flash,  
At his funeral there was food, including seafood by the mass,  
Slaughterfish, trout, and Cyrodiilic Bass,  
Not to mention lots of veggies, not least but last,  
We ate all of this meal- we hadn't had breakfast,  
Are you sure you buried him, or was it this step you passed?  
For I can still smell him, he has quite bad gas.

We will never forget you, you were so right and just,  
Having you on patrol certainly was a must,  
For unlike other guards, you didn't make a fuss,  
Also unlike the others, you never would cuss,  
Always strict and serious, no monkey business,  
You never backed from a fight, not at all a wuss,  
Oh Hemlock, my god, what you meant to us,  
All those creatures you fought, and yet your armour didn't rust,  
Monsters like goblins, with pimples full of pus,  
You stand against the wind, no matter the gust,  
You're the only thing we want for Christmas.

Oh Hemlock, how we love you so!  
Why did you suddenly have to go?  
No matter how we miss you so,  
Your bro is gay, and you're mother's a-

(Removed by request of the Imperial Guard Legion.)

May you rest in pieces."

-----------------------------------------------------

The guards were sobbing at this point. Tears streamed down from their faces, their eyes now blurry and their lips trembling. This was absolutely horrible- the death of an Imperial Guard! First Dave goes missing, then they loose one alltogether! Despite the fact that this meant the guardsmen made more money, and the fact that Hemlock was now gone (he was a strict old soul), and despite the fact that now the guards would be getting more attention, it meant absolutely nothing to them. Then again- well, they didn't really miss him. The bass and veggies at Hemlock's funeral was praised throughout the land, however.

-----------------------------------------------------

Dave woke up. Dizzy and in the stage of a hangover, he was sweating due to the heat of the fire. However, Dave had made a grave mistake when he rested his head so close to the fire- the metal had smelted onto his head! It wouldn't come off- it was attached to his very skin! Aaargh! NO! He dunked his head into the snow, scared half to death, then standing up only for the snow shoveled inside the helmet to fall upon him. Tolborn was missing- the rations were all gone- there simply was no more wine,  
and the fire now burned dangerously close to the tent and wooden furniture. Dave hadn't noticed a thing- too drunk! Oh stupid, stupid Dave! He couldn't even drink properly!  
What a loser! He could only survive a couple of drinks before becoming drunk! But thinking about the task at hand- what sort of creature could have ransacked the camp?  
Could it be a deer? They loved meat, and in a pack they may have eaten Tolborn. Bears- nah, they usually stuck to plants, and they were considerably less vicious than deer...

What kind of Udyrfrykte creature could have destroyed the camp?! 


	6. Guard Balls

**_Guard Balls_**

It had been well over a year.

Well over a year since the incident involving Jensine and the Nine Divines. Well over a year since the funeral of Hemlock, the guard captain, who killed himself via-poisoned food. Well over a year since Bob and Larry had received their armour. Well over a year since Umbacano had begun his search for ancient Ayleid artifacts.

Well over a year since the last chapter update by the great god of the Nine Divines, dukenzeus.

What the fuck had happened?

* * *

Other than Dave, John was the only guard who had the balls to actually meet Jensine in person. Of course, as we all know, Imperial Guardsmen don't have balls or genitals of any sort, as they have no souls and come from Oblivion. But in this case, we'll just say that John has balls to imply that he has a rare talent among guards- despite being utterly ordinary- he was brave. His plan was simple- get acquainted with Jensine, find some way to get her naked and copy the tattoo on a piece of paper. This hopefully wouldn't be too difficult, as there was a high likelyhood that the Nord woman would strip for anyone, the skanky ho. Guardsmen John was ready, and he fixed his helmet- a nervous habit he had whenever he was... well, nervous.

Ironically, John was the last person who Larry and Bob would have assigned for the mission- but of course, John had assigned himself to the mission- what with Larry and Bob being so busy with their new guard duties and forgetting about the Nine Divines after a year of story inactivity. John had remembered, because anything that had to do with horny girls, beer and loud classical music was his forte. He couldn't simply let Jensine be. It took him an entire year or so to come up with the bravery enough to go to her and talk, as despite being so perverted, he was a shy man. Walking into the lair of Jensine, he couldn't help but notice her cheap stock. Four septims for five spring rolls. Twenty-five bottles of wine for twenty four septims, half a septim for a night with Jensine... wait, was that an advertisement for prostitution? That was illegal in Cyrodiil! Bros before hoes! John would surely have to ticket her for such- and at such a cheap price, too!

"Can I," snorted a voice behind him, which paused only for a second for the speaker to scratch her ass, "Help you, kind sir?"

John turned around and- she was beautiful! Well, more like handsome, but John would take anything he could get. For a Nord she was very attractive- brown, shoulder length hair, with a honkin' red nose and curled, smelly feet. The giant parts of her were definitely shining bright. But the Nord parts- god damn! John felt a clank against his armour as he sat down suddenly, grabbing a book from the shelves.

"Oh, I'm just very interested in this here- uh... book!"

John proceeded to be a gentleman and beat himself silly underneath the book, which was now on his lap. He was shaking the table and knocking over pots, one hitting the floor and rolling away. His eyes rolled behind his head as his tongue rolled out and, perfectly in sync with the "big finish", the bell of the White-Gold Tower bonged. It had bonged right when his dong had bonged, incidentally.

Right then and there, John got up, kicking his legs around. He would have let loose even more were he not undercover. He closed the book (which was now ruined, as you might guess) and turned the book around the see the cover.

"The Tome of Akatosh", or the Cyrodiilian equivalent of the Bible.

John instantly froze, looking out the window, tears in his eyes... expecting the great permanent banhammer.

"Hey, that's okay..." Jensine snickered and snorted, "Besides, I think your damn hot."

John blushed, laughing slightly. "Well, thank you..."

Jensine began to move in on him, snaking her body like some kind of retarded troll. "So, you gonna' buy that book... or am I gonna have to read it again and again and," she threw back her head, wrapping her arms around him, "AGAIN!"

The guard known as John (I couldn't start another sentence with John again, could I?) gyrated with her, moving back and forth in a sexual dance, which of course looked like two retarded trolls trying to shine shoes. Jensine purred (roared) as she threw back her head again, then wrapping around John, reaching around his waist and touching his legs. John was wearing armour, so he didn't notice when she stole his sword and put it on the back table. Or his shield. Or his helmet.

"...I know why you're here, John."

John gasped, throwing himself back onto the table. She knew? Good lord, she'd known all along!

"So, my sweet," John attempted to sweet talk her, "when are you going to show me that tattoo of yours?"

Jensine giggled, shrugging her head from side to side and jumping up and down like some kind of giddy school girl. At least she was large-chested, at least there was something to become of this... jumping. John stared perversely at her, but the "clang" wouldn't come. She then took off her shirt- oh wait, realized John, those were just her double chins, covered with hairy warts. Gross, those warts looked scarily like nipples. Really gross, infact.

"Right when you do me... one...itty bitty... favour," She smiled, her huge cheeks like chipmunks and her black eyes like tiny black holes, which would suck one of their life when stared into, "I've got a little situation on my hands (which were bulging with fat), involving one of your superiors... Audens Avians ring a bell?"

John nodded. Audens Avians was a mean, cruel guard captain, bat-shit crazy and full of lies. He was unmatched in swordfighting and marksmen, and when it came to Destruction Magicka, he beat even Hemlock. It wouldn't be easy, defeating this menace. But he'd have to, if he were to see Jensine's Nine Divines and unlock its dark and smelly secrets.

"You need him dead?" asked John.

Jensine giggled. "You've got it," she began to tongue talk, "and when you're done, then and only then will I show you my sexy body..." Her tongue flickered something mad.

"Er, right," said John confusedly, "I only need to see your ass though, m'lady."

Jensine nodded, waving to him as he left. Giggling like mad, but this time not out of "lust", she cradled the sword, shield and helmet and stalked further back into the store.

But then, someone walked in. Tall and mysterious, he was wearing a purple hood with Imperial Dragon Armour. Beneath the hood was all black, but whenever he breathed, cold air came blasting out of his barely visible mouth. His gloves were covered in small barbs, his sword slung onto his side and a strange staff swung over his back. Most importantly, he was laughing madly, like some kind of freak.

Jensine snorted again, expecting to get a sword and a staff. She wrapped around him. "Mmm...hello..."

The man put a hand up, as if trying to stop her from coming any closer.

"Mmm... so, is that a dagger in your pocket or are you just happy to-"

With a sound like gears spinning, whistles blowing and the wind rumbling, a knife shot out of his gauntlet, slamming into the wall behind Jensine, barely missing her.

"What? By the Nine Divines! Assault! Assault!"

She pulled out a dagger, and, hauling her ugly body over to her new foe, she joined him in combat, just like they used to do in Bruma. Of course, she did it a little less gracefully, but hey, who's complaining?

**Author's Note: First Chapter in Over a Year! Hope to get this up and running again, if people still like it!**


End file.
